


Ménage à Quelques

by Nefertiti_22002, Predatrix



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: AU (changed timeline rather than coffee shop style), M/M, Other, Polyamory, Threesome/Moresome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 01:31:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5648842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nefertiti_22002/pseuds/Nefertiti_22002, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Predatrix/pseuds/Predatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ménage à trois" more properly refers to a household, under one roof, arrangement. I'm using the more common English usage of "threesome", but this is complicated. One of the party enjoys events from the sidelines and doesn't touch. The other three are together on the bed. Would that be "ménage à trois et demi" (three-and-a-half-some)? Or it's affectively a foursome where two primary couples get on well and play together. Somewhere between three-and-a-half and four.</p><p>So I chose the French for "household of several" to dodge the question, sticking to the French phraseology because "severalsome" sounds weird and because there's a fair bit  of relationship stuff as well as the actual shagging.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ménage à Quelques

**Author's Note:**

> From Nefertiti_22002: Although my name is listed first on this fic (presumably through automatic alphabetization), it's more Predatrix's than mine. I came up with the notion of Arabella watching and Predatrix wrote the first draft on her own. I added details and humor here and there, but I really should be listed second.

Arabella was a gently-bred vicar's sister, Jonathan thought. He could testify to her earlier state of innocence. He had not really considered how much time he himself had devoted to ameliorating it, or that she might have ideas quite of her own in consequence. 

They lay together after a perfectly satisfactory act of love that had introduced a French instrument (a godemiche[1]) into... well, into his wife, when she had not quite attained satisfaction before he reached his conclusion. What with his one hand working the instrument and a thumb rubbing her gently in front, matters were soon arranged in a more equitable fashion. 

"I do hope, my love," he said, with a kiss on her flushed cheek, "that you are not too extremely shocked at my introducing such a practice?" He associated such things with his wild youth at college, using one on some fairly lively matrons who would never be likely to bemoan their lost innocence. He wondered if it was a step too far to use it on his actual wife. One was meant to take the greatest care with wives, he thought, although it was hardly something one could practice in advance. The lively matrons would have laughed themselves hoarse at being treated with such delicacy. 

Arabella lookt at her husband with an expression he generally catalogued as a great deal of fondness and some little irritation. "Why should I be shocked at your consideration for my pleasure, Jonathan? Surely if we love each other it should be more a matter for dismay if we didn't take care of each other."

"But you're my wife!" he said. 

"I know you are likely to regard a wife as some item of furniture you expect to remain where you left her, sir, but I am not that sort of wife!"

"I am not the sort of, of...marital tyrant, Bell, who does not permit his wife to step out of doors, or have friends, or go to parties!" It caught him on the raw, possibly because his father had been such a man.

She sighed, and kissed him on the cheek. "That was not what I meant, Jonathan. You are kind and thoughtful in your conduct and not so jealous as to begrudge me any friends. It's more that you get lost in a conversation with Mr Norrell, or one of your magic books, and entirely forget my existence until you dig yourself out again. Like as not, I went home three hours before, and you come home and say, 'but, Bell, where have you been, I was just looking for you at Hanover-square!'"

He had to laugh at how exactly she'd caught his tone. Yes, maybe he _did_ sometimes get so caught up in his work he did not notice time passing or things happening around him. Of course it would be remarkably irritating to the other party to just be assumed to be where you last saw them!

"Oh, Bell, I am sorry!"

"And you speak for me all the time--it took me three months to get you to listen to how I preferred to take my coffee, rather than guess and hand it to me."

"I am a properly penitent husband, and if there is anything you would like me to do to secure your comfort in any way, you need only ask."

"Even things I might like to do in the bedroom?" Her eyes were dancing with merriment. 

"Of course! I'm not such an old stick-in-the-mud I would begrudge you anything of that nature!" After all, if she'd tried the godemiche, there couldn't be much else out there for a woman to get adventurous with. 

 

 

He'd underestimated her, as usual. When she reminded him of his promise over breakfast some time later, she took it on a tangent he had never expected. 

They were sitting there peaceably, he with his sausages and toast, her with her toast and jam (and coffee with two sugars and a dash of cream, as he was now very careful to remember she liked).

She smiled at him, waited for Mary to leave them to their breakfast, and said, "So, Jonathan, have you noticed your tutor is in love with you?"

"Arabella, I think that joke is in _extremely_ poor taste!" His hackles rose in an unexpected feeling of protectiveness. Of course both of them--and everyone else--made fun of Norrell from time to time. They couldn't help it, any more than Norrell could help his odd, unworldly seriousness. But sometimes he remembered how helplessly innocent Norrell could seem. It was perhaps not the right description for somebody who could probably drown his enemies with a spell, but sometimes the man seemed so afraid and so fragile, as if he could do with more people on his side. There was a difference between letting off steam at a dinner-party among a number of people who had each had their designs frustrated by Norrell and talking about the man unkindly in private. 

"I am not joking, Jonathan. I thought you had taken the point from some of my conversations earlier, but maybe you did not." She appeared perfectly composed. 

"Really, Bell, you have never so much as hinted in that direction!"

"Oh, so when I told you how he couldn't take his eyes off you, that he was "eating you up with his eyes," that when he wasn't talking _to_ you he was talking _about_ you--you thought I was merely exercising my tongue to no purpose?"

Well, when she put it that way... But since he had visited his cousins as a boy, and learnt to relish good company, he had tended to assume he was a generally likeable person, and any individual instance of being liked had been pleasant, but not a matter for reflection. Which sounded somewhat boastful now he put his mind to it. But to be honest he'd known Mr Norrell liked him uncommonly ever since he'd been told he was the only person Norrell smiled or laughed for, and _certainly_ the only person Norrell had wished to teach magic to.

"I might admit that he finds me likeable, Bell, but it's a long step from that to love." He tugged restlessly on his hair (and Bell, as usual, told him he had better not do that if he wanted to keep his flowing curls past forty) and said, "I did once try to imagine Mr Norrell pressing his suit with a lady, but I only got as far as the very bad poetry--with as many crossings-out as he puts in his articles--before I got the giggles and had to stop."

"Well, of course not, Jonathan," said Arabella. "He has not the least interest of any kind in ladies. They fluster him and upset his nerves. Whenever I was with both of you in his library, for however short a time, he thought I was going to be feminine and weep on his books, or use ribbons for bookmarks."

"I assumed that lack of interest meant he had no interest at all in matters pertaining to the bedroom."

"Jonathan, I assumed you might have realised when you were at university," Arabella said slightly patronisingly, "that there are certain men who prefer the company of other men."

"Well, of course I knew that," said Jonathan. But he'd always assumed the men in question were comfortably at a remove from people he actually knew. Bootmakers or barbers, so the gossip went; wet-lipped shaky-handed tradesmen who were excited by the thought of a handsome gentleman entering their shop. The idea of someone he _actually knew_ having such tastes... well, it ought to be more uncomfortable than it was.

"But there's nothing to say his tastes are any more carnal than a few kisses," he added. He could quite imagine Mr Norrell as the sort of gentleman who liked to kiss. He could imagine him raising his face confidingly to Jonathan's to be kissed, without any difficulty. He wiped a fond smile off his lips and assured himself that there was nothing wrong with being fond of your tutor.

Arabella gave a peal of laughter. "Have you seen him looking at you? He knows more about the fit of your breeches than anybody but me or your tailor, and your tailor would not give the impression of all but drooling over the view."

"Arabella!" he said sharply. This conversation was most uncomfortable. He _was_ beginning to get the most disgraceful mental images now, and they slid into his mind with a facility that suggested he had only been waiting for permission to conceive such ideas. "If I were not a married man, this conversation might be to some purpose, but why my own wife should be mentioning the idea—unless you are suggesting that I wear looser breeches when I visit him,” he added with a feeble attempt at a chuckle.

She lookt slightly contrite. "Do you remember," she said, "a while ago we were talking about what you might do to please me?"

"Arabella, I hardly think that's anything to the point," he said. 

"And some while before that, you were talking of things you liked thinking about in bed--women apart from men, like those very pretty nuns, and those very well-developed schoolgirls..."

"But those are merely the work of fancy!" he said indignantly. 

"Is it so hard to believe that women might have a similar idea?" Her eyes were bright with interest. 

"Yes, but I have certainly never asked you to entertain another lady in my bed!"

"But if you knew I had a close woman friend with a like inclination, you might think of it," she explained. "So why might I not think the same? And in my opinion you actually have a close male friend with a like inclination. I would never even have mentioned the idea if I hadn't occasionally thought that maybe you might like it. You may not talk and think about him _quite_ so much as he does you, but he is so frequent a constituent part of your conversation that he is almost the third person in our marriage."

Jonathan thought. The idea of being so...well, being so _wanted_ was something he was not indifferent to. Now that he was accustoming himself to the idea, he could remember how eagerly Norrell's small, bright eyes fixed on him in the mornings, how Norrell became flustered and sat on his hands when Jonathan had occasion to sit near him, how (to Jonathan's surprize at the time) when they had needed to hold hands to work a spell together, Norrell had spoken the words remarkably slowly.

Arabella had a tiny smug smile, the one she usually wore when she had stopt his headstrong progress in its tracks and persuaded him to think. 

He said, "Even if your suggestion is true, I am not quite sure whether I am ready to perform actual sodomy. With a man," he added.

"Really? Do men try that with ladies?" To his shock, she sounded curious rather than repelled.

"I only tried it once, when the woman suggested it as a way to avoid pregnancy, but really it was so uncomfortable for both of us I cannot recommend it."

"Anyway, I am not at all sure whether that would be his preference," said Arabella. "I can only be sure that he would like to do _something_ with you."

Jonathan didn't say anything. He was too busy wondering what else men might do. Use their hands, perhaps? Their mouths? The pressure of each other's thighs, or perhaps just simple rubbing against each other? He had never particularly thought of all this, and certainly not with his dry, fussy little tutor. But even the forbidden nature of the idea had its own charm.

"And why Norrell, my love? I always thought you were contented with my looks."

"Of course I am, Jonathan!" She gave him a hug as whole-hearted as ever, which went some way toward soothing his wounded _amour-propre._ "But don't you ever wonder what someone so prim-and-proper might be like if they really let go? If they forgot all about respectability and got so lost in the pleasure of it they didn't give a d--n?" She knew what it did to _him_ when the innocent vicar's sister was quite casual about swearing, as well!

"So you wish for the three of us in one bed?" He was not at all happy about that idea. Some sort of, of _connexion_ might be possible, but he thought that might be confusing, and difficult, especially given their own and Mr Norrell's separate tastes.

"Of course not, Jonathan. That would be foolish."

He relaxed. Too soon, as it turned out, because she went on: "I shall be quite content to watch." He gulped. He found that a wickedly-delightful thought, being the centre of so much desire. Arabella would be completely unembarrassed about watching, of course, and Norrell would be absolutely scandalised until Jonathan himself tried to be persuasive. Considering how fascinated his tutor seemed with everything about him, it just might work. 

"And when you say 'watch', you mean..."

 _"Yes,_ Jonathan, with my hand up my skirts. I would happily do it naked and give you a view as well, but I doubt Mr Norrell would wish to see that."

Jonathan shuddered at the very thought of Mr Norrell’s reaction to the sight of a naked woman pleasuring herself in front of him. 

"If we were to do this, how would we proceed?"

"We shall invite him for a quiet dinner next time his duties do not conflict with it," said Arabella. "Could you please mention that to Childermass and ask him what sort of dinner Mr Norrell would be most likely to find acceptable?"

It was a good thought. Mr Norrell could be made most unhappy by the contrast between being respectable (and eating what he was given) and what his touchy stomach considered digestible.

So he mentioned it to Childermass, who explained that Mr Norrell was likely to find beef or mutton hard to chew or digest, and duck too rich, but he found lightly-sauced chicken with a few vegetables, followed by a dessert course, very pleasant. "Only do not help him to too many sweets or ices, sir. He has a terrible sweet tooth but if he eats too much at once it makes him feel wretched."

 

 

The next Tuesday, Mr Norrell was at dinner with them. He seemed to find the food surprisingly acceptable, and kept smiling nervously. Jonathan felt a little sorry for him: he must have been invited to so many dinners where the hosts did not think to ask him what he preferred, and he felt too awkward to say. 

The servants cleared the dessert course briskly, Mr Norrell following them with his eyes as though he would have liked to ask for more, and Jonathan felt a pang of sudden sympathy. He had the idea that there must have been many things Mr Norrell was too shy or awkward to ask for, or simply uncertain whether he was allowed. He realised that he had always seen Mr Norrell at his own house, where he was in charge, but now he began to feel a bit protective toward the man. He also found it easier to picture what Arabella was about to suggest to Norrell as something that would go beyond a rather bizarre way of exchanging physical pleasure.

After dinner, they settled down with glasses of hot negus by the fire, always an enjoyable way to spend time on a winter's evening. 

"I have a proposition for you, sir," said Arabella. 

Mr Norrell wrung his hands nervously. "Without some planning, I cannot think of any spells suitable to make an impression on someone better-educated in magic than the usual dinner-party crowd. They are so easily delighted by the simplest of spells. Of a certainty, though, Jonathan will have told you a little about what we do. I should so like to work up something special for you, Mrs Strange, as you are such a gracious hostess."

Jonathan winced. Every since the resurrection of Lady Pole had suddenly made all London aware of Mr Norrell, people who invited him to dinner expected him to provide the entertainment after the meal. Having Mr Norrell doing his magic at one’s house had become the ultimate status symbol. Naturally he would assume that Arabella wanted to see magic. He felt a quick rush of sympathy for someone who had given up hope that anyone might want him for any other purpose than to use his skills. It occurred to him that he was sympathizing a good deal with his tutor tonight. Even if Mr Norrell did not accept Arabella’s request, he felt that he had at least gained some insight into the man.

"Be easy, sir, I have not invited you here to talk about magic. I talk about magic around the house so much that Arabella welcomes the chance to talk about different things. Very different things, in this case,” he concluded with a nervous grin. 

Mr Norrell's eyes darted round the room a little wildly, as if wondering what was there to talk about besides magic.

She waited until he had put down his glass of negus. "Would you be interested in going to bed with my husband?"

"Bell, do you have rocks in your head?" burst out Jonathan, indignantly. "That is not the way to raise a delicate subject with poor Mr Norrell."

"Have you invited me here to make game of me, madam?" Mr Norrell lookt like the world's smallest and angriest hedgehog in a trying situation. 

"I was never more serious in my life, sir," said Arabella. "It is obvious--not to everyone but to me at least--that you two want each other." _That might be overstating it in my case,_ Jonathan thought, but then Norrell glanced up at him and _oh!_ nobody had ever lookt at him that way, as if the sun rose and fell in his face, desperately hopeful and ashamed and eager all at once. He had (since his marriage) never doubted his wife's attachment to him, but she had often been collected and slightly amused. 

"Is it really that obvious?" asked Mr Norrell. His adoring expression abruptly disappeared and he sounded slightly appalled. 

"Does that mean you _do_ want me?" said Jonathan. 

"Well, er, that is, what I meant was, is Mrs Strange's assumption really likely to be something other people will also notice?"

To Jonathan's fascination, he seemed to be far more troubled with what people might think than anything else. But he was wringing his hands again, which Jonathan suspected might be one of his tells. 

"I really think I'm the only one who has noticed," said Arabella quite gently. 

"In any case, even if it _were_ true, we are not free to pursue such an attachment," Mr Norrell said primly. 

"Does that mean that if I were unmarried, you would?" said Jonathan. 

"But you are married, and I... I am not sure if I can..."

"We are certain our marriage will hold together well enough," said Arabella. 

"If you are a virgin, sir, you may rest assured I shall treat you very gently," said Jonathan. 

Mr Norrell's mouth twisted. "Rather the reverse," he muttered, "that is to say, there is an attachment, but neither of us has spoken about it, and without that, I have not the least idea whether it is exclusive of others, or _what,_ in fact, it is."

"Well, I got _that_ wrong!" exclaimed Arabella. "I was quite certain your feelings for Jonathan are rather passionate."

Mr Norrell blushed. He lookt a little pained. "They are, madam. My...companion has had very little time alone with me since I took up my duties for the country, and I cannot help it if your husband reminds me of the pleasures of the bedchamber."

"Well, you may tell him that if he so wishes my invitation extends to him, said Arabella. 

"Mrs Strange!" said Mr Norrell. 

"Arabella!" said Jonathan. 

“If not conventionally handsome," said Arabella, "he has a certain charm, and if both of you would like it, he's welcome to go to bed with you--both of you."

"Have I been indiscreet?" said Mr Norrell. 

"By no means, sir," said Arabella. "But it is not difficult to work out whom you would have conceived a _tendre_ for, given that it is unlikely to be Mr Lascelles--or Mr Drawlight--or any lady whatsoever."

"And," said Jonathan, catching up, "before I appeared on the scene, you really did not become close to very many people, did you?"

Mr Norrell relaxed fractionally. "And I would not have to...have relations with you, Mrs Strange? That is, I beg your pardon, I am sure that many people would consider it quite desirable to do so. But in that case I cannot conceive what your purpose is in making this suggestion."

Jonathan's un-embarrassable wife quickly explained how many gentlemen were pleased to consider two (or more) ladies together, because they found it exciting, and that a few ladies had similar views on gentlemen. 

From Mr Norrell's expression, it was clear that he was having difficulty visualising what two ladies could do together, but to the extent to which he could, he was trying desperately to expunge the image from his mind. He lookt quickly at Jonathan, as though trying to replace the thought with a more favourable one, breathing noticeably faster, before returning his attention to Arabella. 

Apparently the implications of what she had just said sank in. “Mrs Strange, do you mean that you would be present in the room while we … while such activities were occurring?” he asked in utter shock.

Arabella replied with a little laugh, “Oh, I’m so sorry! I forgot to mention that part of it, didn’t I? Yes, indeed I would.”

Mr Norrell stared at her as if dumbfounded. He glanced at Jonathan, who regarded him with what he meant as an encouraging smile. Mr Norrell glanced around the room and seemed to conclude that this was simply one more of the many things about this proposal that he did not comprehend. "What would you be doing while we were...engaged?" he asked her, with one of those surprizing flashes of practicality he occasionally had. 

She explained. Mr Norrell lookt as though he was considering falling into strong hysterics, and Jonathan was caught between protectiveness for Norrell and pride in his strong, independent wife.

"Do women actually do that?" asked Mr Norrell. 

"I dare say as often as men," said Arabella, meeting his eyes so boldly he developed a strong interest in the carpet. His face was quite pale.

Jonathan stared at him and found himself hoping that Mr Norrell would not lose all interest in the proposition as a result of Arabella’s candour. As they discussed it, the whole thing had become more real to him. He was quite distracted by the image of Arabella sitting on a chair in the corner, touching herself, while he and Mr Norrell--and perhaps Childermass too, good lord!--lay on the bed, touching each other. What was the etiquette for a _ménage-a-trois?_ Did one apologise if unexpectedly bumping elbows or knees? Was it sequential or at the same time? If it _was_ at the same time, how did one avoid leaving someone out? Maybe it would be a good thing to have Childermass involved. If any of them would know, it was he.

"Mr Norrell?" said Arabella.

Mr Norrell lookt at her. He gulped. He appeared entirely to lose the faculty of speech. 

Jonathan decided that the time had come for him to have a quiet conversation with Mr Norrell. Arabella had a charming directness, but the man could only take so many disturbing revelations without some cajoling to back them up.

“Arabella, would you mind if I had a word alone with Mr Norrell?”

She looked reluctant at first but seemed to see his point. “Certainly. It’s rather late, and I shall leave you two gentlemen alone. Thank you so much for coming! It has been a delightful evening, and I hope you enjoyed the meal.”

Mr Norrell politely stood up and murmured his thanks, good-night wishes were exchanged, and Arabella departed with an encouraging nod to Jonathan.

Mr Norrell sat back down and looked at Mr Strange warily.

Jonathan decided to appeal to the man’s predilection for logical thinking by tabulating the various possibilities. Pulling his chair close to that of his tutor and sitting down, he said, "Now, sir, there are three clear possible outcomes."

Mr Norrell relaxed minimally. 

"One. If we don't agree to do what my wife wants, she will, for some bizarre reason, be annoyed."

Mr Norrell jumped. 

"Not with you, sir. In domestic affairs, the husband is always to blame. So I will please both you and her if both of you are interested. Two, if we do it and she _doesn't_ like it...then I don't know what will happen."

“Well, it will be her own fault. She can hardly blame us," said Mr Norrell, sounding quite interested. Evidently the idea of getting the chance when nobody could condemn him for it sounded good to him. 

"Yes, unless we are unable to, ah, _perform_ in front of her," said Jonathan. "One or the other or both of us might not be aroused enough.”

“Well, that would be her fault, too,” said Mr Norrell. He looked at Jonathan long and thoughtfully, up and down. There was a noticeable tightening in his breeches. "And I hardly think I shall have any difficulty."

“We come to the last possibility," said Jonathan. "Three, we do it and she does like it. Possibly enough that she even wants us to do it again sometime.”

“If that is the full set of options available to us, I like that last one," said Mr Norrell sagely.

"Really, Mr Norrell? Could you possibly take off your clothes in front of a woman, let alone perform intimate acts with her watching?”

“Perhaps not," said Mr Norrell with a sigh. "I don't think I'd have any difficulty with you, but I might find her distracting. What about you?”

“Well, of course, I’ve been naked in front of Arabella many times!" said Jonathan. "But hardly in such a situation. I frankly doubt that I could get an erection.”

Mr Norrell lookt as though he would rather like to try anyway. 

Jonathan thought for a moment and realised that so far, the proposed actions sounded as if they were entirely Arabella’s idea and intended largely for her benefit. Well, of course they had been her idea, but they were certainly not only for her benefit. He looked into Mr Norrell’s admiring eyes and said, “Mr Norrell, I want you to know that I was initially surprised and a little shocked when Bell brought up this subject. But I was also flattered to think that you would consider me desirable, and I now find myself wanting very much to grant all three of us our desires. Possibly four, if Childermass finds the notion, um, intriguing.”

Mr Norrell listened to him, his face registering his surprise and increasing delight. “Mr Strange, if you desire this, too, then I … I am willing to try it. I would rather wish that Mrs Strange were not present, but that seems to be the basic condition of such an event happening at all.”

"Anyway," said Jonathan, "before anything can be decided, you need to go home and talk to Childermass about it, whenever you have the privacy. He may or may not feel he has a prior claim, he may or may not feel it is a good idea for you to do it, he may or may not want to join in. But it makes good sense for you both to talk it out."

Mr Norrell nodded. "You are right. I believe he would have an opinion in the matter. He is better than I am at understanding social things, and I would not want to do something that would hurt his feelings." He hesitated. “Mr Strange, I can grasp the fact that Mrs Strange would get … some sort of pleasure from watching us. Still, her willingness, even desire to see you and me in … in such an intimate situation puzzles me. Would not she be terribly jealous?”

Jonathan thought perhaps a simpler explanation would be more convincing to Mr Norrell. “You see, sir, Bell loves me and she likes you very much. She wants us both to be happy, and she is convinced that this will make us so. Seeing us happy would make her happy, and so she wants to be there to witness it.”

“Well, it all seems quite odd to me, but I know that I do not understand women and undoubtedly never will." He hesitated before asking, “Are all wives like that?”

Jonathan considered for a moment. “Um … no, not all.”

 

 

Mr Norrell sent a note the next day, via Childermass, suggesting that both of them would like to come for dinner in a couple of days. This being quite uncommon for Mr Norrell, it suggested he was indeed interested. A PS specified that they would bring a change of clothing and a few necessities for an overnight stay.

After the end of his lessons that day, Jonathan took the chance to draw Childermass aside. "Have you heard of my wife's unlikely proposition?"

"Aye," said Childermass heavily. "I have that."

"We have no intention of coming between you if you're closely involved," said Jonathan. 

"We never really troubled to work out what it was," said Childermass. "It was our business, I could do a fair job of keeping him safe from harm, and nobody else needed to know. Then he fell in love with you, and your wife considered some frankly havey-cavey scheme for her own entertainment."

"So are you about to warn me off or offer to join in?" Jonathan asked.

"I'm most concerned with keeping him safe, sir," said Childermass. "I've been with him a long time, as a servant, a friend, maybe more than that. Doesn't need his heart broken by the next magician to come along."

"Has he spoken to you about having feelings for me?"

"He doesn't need to. After I saw him look at you as if you hung the moon and stars, I knew I might have to look out for him."

Jonathan felt rather uneasy, hoping not to offend Childermass.

"I'd happily have managed without him falling in love with someone else," Childermass went on, "but I make no doubt that there's a difference between a flush of sudden passion and an attachment that took years to form. You have a wife to go home to, and he has me." He lookt Jonathan direct in the eye. "Since we left Hurtfew, I'm the nearest to a home he's got." 

"So you're not jealous?" said Jonathan, to make sure.

Childermass chuckled deeply. "If you were in a magic prison where you shared all his work with him, and you were alone together for years, _then_ I'd be raging-jealous. But the love he has for you is a spring fever, fast and hard, and when it fades I shall still be there."

Jonathan nodded. That was definitely the best way all round, and he and Arabella might have been slightly irresponsible taking this so lightly.

"But he's attracted to me?" Jonathan said, just to make sure.

"I think he's tempted by your offer, Mr Strange. Hasn't got his leg over _me_ for a month, what with travel and lack of privacy, and he's started asking me what I think of you."

Jonathan said, "I assure you, Bell believes she would derive great pleasure from our pleasure, but she would never put pressure for any of us to participate if we have the slightest reluctance. If you're not interested we'll say no more about it."

"Didn't say that, did I?" Childermass offered a slightly shark-like grin. "Wouldn't kick either of you out of bed, you or my master. Wouldn't mind watching, either. Especially when he goes from being all modest to being desperate. You've got a fair chance of him just spreading himself out on the bed and begging for your cock."

Jonathan swallowed. His wife's madcap idea was beginning to sound more than a little appealing. 

"So we'll come for dinner, and stay, and see how it goes," said Childermass

 

 

Arabella specified another Norrell-friendly menu this time: lightly-grilled fowl with a spiced sauce on the side, and a dessert of lemon cream and Shrewsbury biscuits. This might have been too light a meal for most of them, but Arabella, and Jonathan, and possibly Childermass, intended to take a comforting supper once they'd worn Norrell out. 

Over the meal, Arabella and Jonathan chatted quite as cheerfully as ever, while the other couple spoke in lower voices at the other end of the table. He was not sure, but he suspected Childermass was making it his office not to let his master be nervous. If Norrell's consumption of the dessert was any indication, he was far less worried by the end of the meal.

When the last trace of lemon cream was scooped up on the last Shrewsbury biscuit, Arabella got up and said brightly, "Shall we?"

Jonathan said, "Follow my wife, I generally find it saves trouble to let her lead the way," and smiled. 

He was just near enough to hear as Childermass bent close to his master and said, "Don't worry, sir, I shan't let her get you. Only ones having our wicked way with _you_ tonight are me and him!" Jonathan wondered at the strange fears people had--surely a wife was not that terrifying--but had to remind himself a wife was a perfectly-delightful creature if one had sought her out, but presumably not otherwise. 

So the little procession consisted of Jonathan, Arabella, and a bit behind Childermass and Mr Norrell.

The bedroom was pleasantly-lit, with a good fire roaring up in the hearth. Norrell lookt rather happier to see that. 

Jonathan and Childermass noted that the usual sheets and blankets and quilt had been thoroughly protected with a thick dust cover of the type used on furniture during long absences. 

“Let it fly, eh, sir?” Childermass whispered to Jonathan, who tried to stifle a laugh. He was definitely glad that this fellow had agreed to be present, if not necessarily to join in. 

Arabella was wearing a rather unusually droopy dress that suggested that she had had recourse to neither stays nor servants. This reminded him excitingly of _why_ she wanted freedom of dress for the evening. 

"Go ahead, gentlemen, imagine I'm not here," she said. 

Three pairs of eyes fixed on her unerringly. She chuckled, and went to the corner. Jonathan noticed that the soft roomy chair from his study had suddenly appeared there. Obviously she had been preparing.

"I was quite wrong!" burst out Mr Norrell, staring at her. "I shall be completely unable to perform."

Jonathan moved to him, put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Do you know what my first thought was, when Arabella came out with such an unusual idea? I thought, 'I can imagine that he might like to kiss me'."

Mr Norrell lookt up at him. He glanced at his eyes, then his lips. 

Mr Norrell kissed considerably more expertly than he might have thought, not just going straight for the tongue but nibbling at his lips, then applying a delicate pressure, finally sliding in to flirt tongue-to-tongue against him. Then he backed off a little to practice building up the sensations again. Finally, he settled to passionate tongue-thrusting as if he couldn't manage the control for any thing else, moaning into Jonathan's mouth. Jonathan almost moaned himself: it was a very good kiss.

When he drew away, Jonathan (as a frequently-satisfied married man) was interested, but Norrell's state bore witness to the deprivation Childermass had mentioned. He was panting, dishevelled, and lookt seconds away from coming in his breeches. 

Norrell opened his eyes, looking at Jonathan adoringly. Jonathan kissed him on the corner of his mouth because he just couldn't _not._ How could anyone resist being loved that way? He was surprised to be recalled to his situation when Norrell lookt unwillingly into the corner. Then, without any display or exaggeration, Norrell put his face in his hands.

Jonathan said, "I'm sorry." He thought this was inadequate. It had taken him this long to realise he was playing with real people's feelings, that he was exposing such a private man. Not exposing him _to_ anything--he and Arabella weren't monsters, and had had nothing in mind but shared enjoyment--but just exposing him in a way he wasn't comfortable with. 

Childermass sighed, and came forward. "Come on, sir," he said, and drew him up to kiss him warmly. It was recognisably the original of the kiss Norrell had given Jonathan, but with an element of ease that spoke of time and comfort. "Get yourself in front of the fire for a bit and I'll sort it all out for you," Childermass went on.

Without speaking, Norrell did so, sitting with his shoulders slightly hunched up. 

"Just caught him a bit by surprise," said Childermass. "He's not been thinking out the being-in-love bit, but getting it all mixed up with being desperate, and then suddenly remembered your wife was there. If it's just a bit too much for him, will you two let us have some time together in here instead? Sorry if it ends up spoiling your evening, but …” He glanced at Norrell.

"Of course we will!" said Arabella warmly. "We never intended to hurt any one's feelings."

"I'll try to talk it through with him now," said Childermass. 

Jonathan blessed Arabella's choice of the largest and most spacious chair. There was room for them to sit together, and they didn't overhear too much of the other couple's conversation. 

He heard the beginning of it. "They'll leave us to it if you like, so I can have you and you feel better. They'd rather we were happy than try to push any thing on us. Does that help?"

Mr Norrell said something. Jonathan thought it might have been, “I don’t want to disappoint Mrs Strange.”

Arabella seemed to have heard it the same way, for she glanced quickly at Jonathan and then looked at Mr Norrell with more fondness that she had displayed for him before.

Then Childermass's voice went to a low murmur, and Mr Norrell reached out for him. Jonathan could not hear the rest of the conversation, but no doubt it wasn't intended for him.

After a while, Mr Norrell trotted up to them. "Mrs Strange, we would like to accept your kind offer of the use of your husband. Ah...Mr Strange...if, that is, you do not mind?"

Jonathan gave him a reassuring smile. It must have taken some bravery to approach again. "Arabella shall be quiet in the corner while we explore," he said. 

This time, they undressed. Jonathan first. Mr Norrell did not pay the least attention to Arabella: he was too busy watching Jonathan. Meanwhile, Jonathan surprised himself by thinking about Norrell. He had assumed he would have to regulate his own attention by coming back to the thought of his wife pleasuring herself in the corner, but, no, the frankly lustful look on Norrell's face was quite enough. So he made a show of it; his strong arms and hands, his height, his well-turned legs, and finally his prick. No-one in his misspent youth had suggested he had anything to be shy about with that, and nor did Norrell, who took a half-step forward as though he wanted to touch it. 

Maybe Mr Norrell would have spent the entire evening looking at Jonathan, but Childermass said, "It's your turn now, sir," so he sighed, and fumbled at his clothes. He had no sense of coquetry--which made it more exciting for Jonathan, the thought that this was a rare event--but managed not to tear any thing, with only occasional recourse to Childermass for help with the fastenings. Jonathan glanced at Bell, who was watching this process with a smile that suggested she had never seen anything so endearing.

He was a little plump, not muscular (except in the arms for carrying books), and without much body-hair. He was also less well-endowed, if extremely hard. But these differences from the ideal of handsomeness were inexplicably charming, marking him as an individual, as _Norrell_ and no other.

Stepping up to him, Jonathan slid a hand round him and squeezed his arse. Norrell leaned against Jonathan.

Childermass began to undress next. He was strong, somewhat grimy, and would shape up excellently even next to Jonathan if not for the odour of horse and his tangled hair.

Norrell lookt at him as well. He drew a sharp breath. The full advantages of the arrangement seemed finally to have hit him.

"Come on, sir," said Childermass. "Which of us would you like first?"

Jonathan was a little shocked to see Norrell blatantly eyeing them up. He glanced at Childermass's crotch, then more extensively at Jonathan's. He lickt his lips and sighed happily. 

"Well, sir, I reckon Mr Strange has about a fraction of an inch on me," said Childermass. "I'll prepare you."

Mr Norrell climbed up on the bed and lay on his stomach. Childermass grasped one of the several pillows in a generous heap at the head of the bed and slipped it under his hips. Mr Norrell spread his legs in happy anticipation.

That gave Jonathan a very good view of why his previous act of sodomy had gone poorly. He had certainly known the lady needed preparation, and the use of salve, but Childermass was using what he would have considered ridiculous quantities, and very slowly working Norrell up by adding fingers, and it appeared to go excellently well.

Arabella, on the other hand, did not have a good view of this proceeding, and she was evidently mightily curious. Since Mr Norrell’s head was turned away from her, she stood carefully up and tiptoed on her bare feet to the side of the bed. She looked surprised at what she saw and a trifle shocked, but she continued to watch curiously. Jonathan was taken aback by how calmly she was reacting to this. As Mr Norrell began to make odd but pleased sounds, she scampered quickly back to her chair.

After a while, Norrell was spread out on the bed, completely relaxed. His eyes remained closed, possibly to avoid a glimpse of Arabella, although he had equally-possibly forgotten her entirely. 

Jonathan glanced over. Her face was flushed, and her hands were not visible, but she was keeping to her promise of playing discreetly. 

"Now, sir, would you like a good hard fuck the first time, just to take the edge off you?" said Childermass, and Norrell wailed and hid his face in his arm, although this did not obscure a blush extreme enough it showed on the back of his neck. Then Norrell got to his hands and knees, shoving his arse up.

Childermass passed Jonathan the salve. Apparently both parties needed to prepare themselves. He applied the salve to the obvious spot, glancing at Childermass until the man nodded.

"Go on, sir, introduce yourself," said Childermass. "Start off slowly but don't take too long to work yourself up. When you're _really_ hammering him and he's like to spend, bite him."

Norrell whimpered.

Jonathan went in gently, but picked up speed in a couple of minutes, familiarising himself with the sorts of things Mr Norrell said in the bedroom, from a shocked, "Mr Strange!" as he made the first hard thrust to wordless noises interspersed with repeated cries of his name and incoherent pleas as he kept moving. 

Soon, the noises and cries of "Mr Strange!" attained a certain pitch, and Childermass whispered, "Now, sir!" to Jonathan, who was somewhat relieved. The heat and tightness was getting a little much, and he no longer wanted to hold back.

He kept thrusting, harder and harder, and Mr Norrell got more and more frantic, and Jonathan finally grabbed his prick at the same time as he bit him, at which Mr Norrell gave a tremendous cry of "Jonathan!" and came off all over the bed. The fierce spasms took Jonathan with him, and he groaned with the pleasure of it. 

Once they had disengaged, Mr Norrell lookt into Arabella's corner and said, "Excuse me, madam!" and she said, "Do not trouble yourself, sir, he has quite the same effect on me if we have been apart for a while." She lifted her hand and sniffed it.

Norrell looked at her, puzzled, for a moment before turning to Childermass, and saying, "Thank you." Jonathan rather thought that although he and his wife had been the prime movers in this engagement, and although Norrell had such a passion for him, Norrell would never have accepted it without Childermass's advice. Perhaps there were indeed attachments more important than being in love.

 

After a while getting their breaths back, they took account of their various needs. Jonathan would be quite happy to go again, Childermass seemed very ready to take his turn, and Mr Norrell lookt dozy and very satisfied. Jonathan surmised that asking who he'd like to have "first" had been merely for effect. 

"Childermass? What would you like?" Mr Norrell asked.

"Well, after seeing what a good time you had, I think I'll ask Mr Strange," said Childermass. He smiled, slowly. "Wouldn't mind going on the bottom for once. Find out what you see in it, like. Not as if you ever offer!" His tone sounded teasing, as if it had been mentioned several times but not seriously. 

"But we are perfectly content as we are, Childermass," said Mr Norrell firmly. "I have no intention of getting into arguments with you about whose turn it is. It's far simpler to know at the outset.

"Come here, give us your hand!" said Childermass, and when Mr Norrell did, he pressed a kiss into Norrell's small palm and folded his fingers on it for safekeeping. "I promise I won't let him turn me, and I'll be happy to give it you up your arse as often as you like..." He paused. "Well. _Nearly_ that often, anyway."

Mr Norrell muttered, "Oh, all right then," rather sulkily.

"You go and sit by the fire, sir," said Childermass. "We're both larger-built than you, and you could do without our arms flailing and knocking you in the face."

Mr Norrell obediently trotted aside and settled there.

Jonathan had always assumed the man on top would both do the work and make the decisions. He should have realised from the fact that Childermass had been the one knowing what to do in the first place that he would have decided opinions. He went onto his hands and knees. Jonathan's first guess about how much salve to use was optimistic, so he had to keep adding more. However, Jonathan's long fingers seemed to be very welcome working away inside Childermass.

Finally, with a shuddering gasp, Childermass said, "All right now, sir," and Jonathan settled to prepare his own anatomy. He was rather glad he'd gone first as well; he was by no means sure he'd have lasted.

Jonathan could only tell Arabella was discreetly attending to herself by the fact he couldn't see her hands, and the disarray of her dress.

He also noticed Norrell had moved his chair from directly facing the fire to where he had a better view of events. He was also leisurely frigging himself, long slow strokes accompanied by happy sighing, eyes fixed on them.

He glanced at Arabella: she had clearly noticed Norrell's further interest in events and was watching him, as well. Her lips twitched into a smile as she caught his eye: possibly Norrell _was_ as insatiable as Childermass thought, and Childermass would probably know. 

Jonathan went in hard but slow, managing a sort of twisty stroke.

"Mm," sighed Childermass. "I bet that's why he likes it, the way it rubs inside.” Norrell made a little complaining noise from where he was sitting, then suckt at his fingertips and used them to tease himself behind.

Jonathan grinned. Mr Norrell lookt so awkward as he tried to excite himself both before and behind, and Arabella lookt so helpful, that he almost imagined her being a generous hostess and offering to politely lend a hand. But then Childermass reacted so enthusiastically to his ministrations that it quite took the view out of his head in favour of vigorous thrusting.

This, thought Jonathan, was not going to take long. The next stroke managed to encourage a quite astonishing flood of profanities from Childermass, but since the general tone appeared to be positive, he was not going to worry about that. He slowed down a little, just wanting to draw things out, but Childermass rocked underneath him. His toes were curling, and he was wonderfully hot under and around Jonathan.

But Childermass stopped moving and turned his attention to Norrell for a moment--if it had ever quite left--and said, "Want to finish like that, sir, with your hand and a good view of us? Or..."

"Or?" said Norrell, not as though he wanted to stop.

"Or we can all go together in the bed, him in me and me in you. Just think about his weight pushing us down close together, hot and hard. Pushing me into you."

And Norrell stopt dead, and gave a shuddering gasp. He came to stand near the bed.

Jonathan said, "How do we do this? I'm only beginning to get a grasp on sodomy..."

Norrell moaned faintly, but then said in a stage whisper, "Mr Strange, you should not use such language in front of Mrs Strange!”

"...and I think adjusting the act for three people is taking it to an advanced level."

"It's mainly common-sense," said Childermass. "It's like a dance, you have to get into step with the others."

Norrell moved from beside the bed, and went and sat down again, with a slightly cast-down expression.

"Not _that_ much like a dance," said Childermass patiently. "All you need is a bit of attention."

Mr Norrell came back to the bed and got in front of Childermass. With Jonathan remaining inside him but now still, Childermass sloshed what was probably the entire remainder of the jar of salve into Mr Norrell. Jonathan groaned appreciatively as Childermass's increased concentration tightened him around Jonathan, and Mr Norrell just begged Childermass to get it in.

Soon they were all mounted and trying to find a rhythm. Jonathan loved how tight it made Childermass, how the heat and the sweat and the power of it made his head swim but he had no need to stop and worry because Childermass was a man, and Childermass was the one who knew what he was doing, so the only responsibility Jonathan had was to _fuck._ Childermass groaned that it felt so good getting the pleasure of it from both sides. Norrell snarled and swore and apparently _bit_ Childermass's finger, that being the part nearest his mouth.

Childermass said, "ouch!" and then, "Remember what I told you about manners?" and Norrell muttered something about biting or being rude not usually being a good way to get what you want. Clearly there was a difference between biting someone for _their_ pleasure (which had done a lot for Norrell when he was excited enough) and biting out of impatience.

On being persuaded to use words, Mr Norrell explained that a big heavy dust-sheet was certainly not ideal to do the trick, and if they'd only left the bedspread on he'd have _finished_ by now.

Childermass said, "Mr Strange, shift up a bit and I can rub him. Not that he deserves it, untidy little bugger!"

They went on. This time, by the sound of it, Childermass was giving Norrell's prick a good squeeze on the down-stroke, and it was putting him into _ecstasies._ Childermass was grunting happily as they went. Jonathan settled back into the fuck.

When he glanced round, Arabella was smiling at him. He couldn't believe he'd got so caught up in it he hadn't thought of her for a while. As if deciding the other two were too occupied to notice, she swiftly lifted her skirt for a moment, spread her wet cunt for him to see with her equally-wet fingers, and restored her previous state of apparent decorum.

 _What have I become,_ Jonathan thought as he began to spend, _when the thought of marital congress is a wicked secret kept from two other men in an act of sodomy?_ But strange as it was, he would do that and more for Arabella.

Childermass groaned deeply as he came deep within his master, and Norrell cried "Oh, oh, _oh!"_ as he shuddered into his own crisis.

They disengaged. Arabella brought a pail of warm water with her favourite rose-water soap, and they mopped up. While they were off the bed, Arabella quickly removed the dust-cover with its accumulated drops of scattered seed.

Norrell, from the chair by the fireplace (where he was preserving his by-now highly compromised modesty from Arabella under a pillow), said, "Thank-you-very-much-for-having-me-Mrs-Strange," just like a nervous child after a party.

Nobody made a rude joke about Arabella being the only one in the room who _hadn't_ been having him, and Arabella, bless her, managed to contain a fit of giggles that would certainly have offended Mr Norrell.

Jonathan asked Childermass if he was all right, and he said, "Oh, yes," and smiled crookedly at him.

"Childermass?" said Norrell uneasily, which prompted Childermass to move over to his chair and explain that _yes,_ he was unhurt, and yes, it had been good, but no, he had no intention of adding that variation to their normal bedtime repertoire unless Norrell fancied trying it.

Norrell lifted his arms up for an embrace, which Childermass gladly gave him.

"Anyone for supper?" said Jonathan. 

Arabella said, "Yes, please!"

Norrell muttered, "No," sounding half-awake and slumping down in the chair.

Childermass said, "Good idea, but I'll just settle him to sleep first. Is this the room where we’ll be staying, Mrs Strange?”

“Yes, it is,” Arabella replied, and she and Jonathan went out to deal with the food.

By the time Jonathan and Arabella had made themselves comfortable in the upper dining-room, with a fire in the hearth and some melted cheese with toast freshly made, Childermass had appeared silently round the door and was leaning against the wall in his habitual fashion.

He winced a little when he sat down. "No, I'm not hurt, but I'm certainly out of practice," he said, and they all settled happily to their meal.

"I’m glad we can impose on your hospitality," said Childermass, "I think it will be good for him to sleep here. He's slept badly the last year or two, and this is the first time in a while he's gone right off to sleep and not been restless."

"We’re quite happy to have you, as long as we can rely on you to wake up early," said Arabella. "The servants might find it a little odd to walk in and find you in each other's arms. But apart from that--what d'you think, Jonathan?"

"I'd count the evening a definite success!" said Jonathan. "I might worry if you want to repeat it every week or two, but every so often might do well for all concerned."

"Excellent!" said Arabella. “I enjoyed it even more than I expected.”

They both lookt at Childermass.

"I'll have to talk it over, but I wouldn't mind," he said.

Arabella smiled warmly at him. “And thank you for making it possible. Mr Norrell would not have participated if it hadn’t been for you, and he is such a little dear!”

“A randy little dear,” Childermass muttered, with an amused smile. “You’re quite welcome, Mrs Strange. I’m glad you invited me and that it worked out the way you wanted it. I enjoyed it myself, and he certainly did, once he got past being shy."

 

So every few months or so, they would share a bed. Most of the time Childermass allowed Jonathan to have him, although they did experiment with switching roles occasionally. They discovered that although Jonathan liked being on the bottom once in a while it wasn't his preference. Once Childermass talked Norrell into being on top, but since he merely came much too fast and then sulked epically for the rest of the evening, this was never repeated.

The real surprise was that, following a suggestion of his wife's, Jonathan arranged for Norrell and Childermass to visit far more often.

Arabella thought of these visits because one night during dinner with the Stranges, Norrell brought himself to explain that his staff were beginning to get accustomed to finding himself and Childermass in cupboards, whether for an amatory purpose or a mere desperate attempt to get Childermass's advice uninterrupted by Henry Lascelles or Christopher Drawlight. 

Jonathan and Arabella could quite see that the two needed quiet time together, and certainly time apart from Lascelles and Drawlight, who Jonathan knew spent much of each day at Hanover-square. Their own capacious home seemed to offer the needed sanctuary.

After seeking advice from Childermass and Lucas, Jonathan took on a footman who was not only tall but broad to match, and could block a doorway to an extent surpassed only by rubble. This man, George, was under strict instructions that nobody at all was at home to either Mr Drawlight or Mr Lascelles, and that those gentlemen were to wait (somewhere else) for letters explaining when the people they were visiting would be at home.

Of course they did not entirely avoid the company of those gentlemen. What had changed was the omnipresence of Lascelles, Drawlight and the dinner-party guests, the sense that when they were _not_ there they might turn up at any moment. Given the chance of quiet, reflective conversation with congenial people whenever he needed it, Norrell's confidence grew.

It was not a surprise that, apart from getting more work done when in the Stranges’ house, Norrell and Childermass also visited two or three times a week for those pleasures that, Childermass said, improved his master's disposition so thoroughly. (Or, as he put it privately to Jonathan, “The man gets a solid fucking at night, he’s good as gold the next day.”)

What _was_ a surprise was all the other times.

Over the next few months, Norrell's attention blossomed like the flowers of spring, once removed from Lascelles' and Drawlight's advice about the sorts of people (themselves) that deserved it. He quite naturally asked advice from Childermass on almost everything, but, as far as Jonathan could see, did not simply follow the advice slavishly but used it to keep himself grounded.

Limiting his library to the mere armful of books he could bring with him of a day, he started to write articles of the sort Jonathan had originally assumed he would write, with a flow of argument that was not simply mired to the extent that all was blotted and crossed by the afternoon.

Jonathan was surprised by how little Childermass said about the magazine articles and how much difference his brief comments made: he had the knack for heading Norrell's fruitless ruminations off and keeping him to the point.

Even when Childermass was off on business, Jonathan's studies benefitted from Norrell's change of circumstances. When Norrell did not have the right book (Jonathan continued to suspect him of hiding them), he was now far more prepared for a discussion of theory (although Jonathan thought his lengthy remarks sounded as dry as ever).

Although Norrell still had a monomania against the Raven King, and Childermass seemed to be quite against that, both of them had a good deal to say against fairies. On Childermass's account, this was simply because he'd grown up knowing a few old tales that made it quite clear that fairies were out for their own ends, but Jonathan could not understand why Norrell did not follow the general tradition in magic which was generally pro-Fairy.

One evening the three men all lay together after a thoroughly successful tumble, with Arabella watching as usual. Jonathan brought up one of his favourite topics, one which always generated fascinating, if somewhat heated, comments. "But, sir, would it not be a fine thing to have a fairy-servant, just like the magicians of the past?"

Mr Norrell, clutching a pillow to his middle in his usual post-coital fit of modesty, sighed, and finally whispered, "If your wife were not here, sir, I'd _tell_ you!" Jonathan did not attach much significance to this remark at the time, but Childermass went still and listened.

Over the next fortnight, Childermass apparently wore away at his master's reticence. The next time Jonathan saw Norrell at his door he was as white as butter, lookt rather ill, and was wringing his hands.

"My dear sir!" Jonathan said in concern, "are you quite well?"

Without speaking, Mr Norrell led the way to the familiar bedroom. Removing their shoes but for once keeping their clothes on, the three climbing onto the bed. Jonathan and Childermass settled at either side of Mr Norrell, silent in support.

"I shall tell you of the most shameful episode of my life," he began quietly. "I thought I could never bear to tell anyone, but when I was with you, after sharing intimacies, I felt almost able to come out with it. I think I might have, if not for your wife--excuse me!--" he said to Jonathan. “It is not that I dislike or distrust Mrs Strange. Quite the contrary! But I know that she has been a friend to Lady Pole, and I have no idea how she would react."

Jonathan held his one hand, and Childermass held the other, and Mr Norrell told them the truth about his most spectacular--and dreadful--success. After he concluded, there was a short silence.

"I think, sir, you have succeeded in putting me off fairies," said Jonathan.

Norrell sat and shivered. Evidently it had taken all his courage to get this far.

Childermass sighed, and said, more gently, "Reckon it'll take all three of us to deal with this. Not tonight, though." He glanced at Jonathan, who got up and stood away.

He watched Childermass undress Norrell with great tenderness, and the shivers turned into long, full-body shudders, and suddenly Norrell turned to Childermass, grabbed him, and kissed him ravenously, making a grab for his crotch, and after a few moments just let go of that to put his arms right round Childermass, as if Childermass were the whole world to him.

Jonathan realised, _they're trying to keep his mind off it,_ and then, suddenly, _I shouldn't be here!_ Being allowed to share particular times with them at his wife's instigation was not the same thing, just the same as they were not invited to his own marriage-bed. This, however sodomitical and odd, was the bed of lovers. 

But he felt privileged to know that, and privileged to be part of the no-doubt terrifying magical battle that must take place when the Fairy fought for his prey.

As he gently closed the door behind him, he could hear Norrell begin to moan with desperation. Evidently he trusted Jonathan to leave them to it, and evidently he needed the release, the comfort of getting what he needed from Childermass.

Leaving Mr Norrell in Childermass's capable hands, Jonathan thought, _When Arabella came out with a ridiculous idea, I wouldn't have imagined all this!_ It was possibly the most significant change since he took up magic. If Lascelles had been let to have his head, he might have run the magazine into the ground, and argued Norrell out of friendship with both Jonathan and Childermass. And Norrell certainly wouldn't have confessed his great secret to _Lascelles._

Goodness only knew what would have happened then.

 

 

[1] Some might say the English term "dildo" is a perfectly good word, but they underestimate the degree to which less-than-respectable things were ascribed to the French.


End file.
